<!DOCTYPE html>
<html>
<head>
<meta charset="UTF-8">
<title>The Bullworth School of Survival by Tooth</title>
<style type="text/css">

body { background-color: #ffffff; }
.CI {
text-align:center;
margin-top:0px;
margin-bottom:0px;
padding:0px;
}
.center   {text-align: center;}
.cover    {text-align: center;}
.full     {width: 100%; }
.quarter  {width: 25%; }
.smcap    {font-variant: small-caps;}
.u        {text-decoration: underline;}
.bold     {font-weight: bold;}
</style>
</head>
<body>
<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26030359">The Bullworth School of Survival</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tooth/pseuds/Tooth'>Tooth</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>60 Parsecs!, Bully (Video Games)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Bullying, Crossover, Gen, Highschool AU except it isn't, ask me to tag stuff i'm bad at this</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-08-21</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-09-06</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 07:27:38</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>7,956</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26030359</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tooth/pseuds/Tooth</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>A crossover between 60 Parsecs! and Bully. Emmet Ellis, highschool student, has just been transferred to Bullworth - and being the biggest nerd in the world he has to do his best to survive in the dog-eats-dog school. One thing's for sure, he won't be able to do it alone.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>5</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. The New Kid</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>“Everyone, give a warm welcome to our new student, Emmet Ellis.” Mr. Galloway presented the newcomer to the class with an encouraging smile, but even a fanfare wouldn’t have changed the nearly palpable hostility of the classroom. Emmet stood before them, clutching his English workbook to his chest tightly, feeling like a criminal about to be sentenced to death. His eyes zipped around from one scornful face to another, not daring to stare at any for more than a second. Finally, he looked back to the teacher, his already wide eyes even wider behind the thick lenses.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mr. Galloway sat down in his chair with a sigh. “Well, Emmet… why don’t you ah, tell us a bit about yourself, perhaps?” Emmet gulped, looking down to the floor to collect his thoughts. A couple of chuckles could be heard throughout the class, even a “dork” from somewhere in the back, where the biggest, scariest kids sat.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ah, w-well,” Emmet lifted his head again, “I had to change schools. So, now I’m here.” He paused for a long while, giving Mr. Galloway a glance to know whether this nightmare is over yet.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And what about your hobbies? Play any sports?”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Hah, this beanpole would snap in half if he tried to catch a ball.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>What a dweeb!</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>His glasses are thicker than my nanas’.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Emmet tried to ignore the whispering, licking his lip before speaking.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I like chemistry.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The moment those words left his mouth, he could feel large letters spelling NERD being stamped over his forehead like a branding iron. The class snickered, and a few more insults flew his way, Emmet feeling like perhaps he should just jump out the window now and end his misery.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, it’s nice to have a scholarly interest,” Mr. Galloway nodded, getting up and grabbing some chalk. “Pick a seat, I’ll continue where we left off last lesson,” he began writing on the board, “but no worries, I won’t quiz you before you have the chance to catch up, alright?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Emmet took a step between the desks, each with two seats, looking around for a place to sit. There was free space next to a couple people, some big, some small. Emmet weighed in his head the best option - sitting next to a bruiser was out of the question, but sitting next to an even bigger nerd than he was had the potential to make him an even bigger target by association.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Time was running out. Emmet bit the bullet and sat down next to a tired looking blonde in the wall row. He avoided eye contact, but didn’t have to try much. The girl gave him a single rather annoyed stare, then leaned her head back into her palm to stare boredly at the blackboard.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mr. Galloway began to explain english phonetics while Emmet took a deep breath, wishing this was all just a bad dream. He heard a lot about Bullworth, but being here now, surrounded by snickering and evil eyes, he knew all those stories didn’t hold a candle to how awful this place really was.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The bell rang. Students began to leave the classroom, a few walking by where Emmet was still sitting, with a cruel grin or a few words to throw his way.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Welcome to Bullworth, nerd.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Smell ya later mr scientist.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’ve got some balls sitting next to Dawkins, hah!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Emmet kept his head low, packing his books. Finally they left and he could lift his head up again, only to notice the blonde still sitting next to him. He looked her over, wondering about the last threat thrown his way. This Dawkins girl did not seem too scary, not nearly as much as some of the others. Her head was still resting in her palm, her eyes closed… Was she asleep?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He raised his hand carefully, about to poke her shoulder, when suddenly her other hand snapped up and around his wrist and twisted it painfully. Emmet whimpered as she gave him a searing stare, scarier than any buff jock could muster.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Keep your hands to yourself if you want to keep your fingers,” she snarled, slamming his hand into the table but finally letting go. Emmet quickly held it to his chest painfully.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m sorry! I’m sorry, I just wanted to tell you the lesson is over, s-so you wouldn’t be late for your next…” Gosh that sounded so dumb now. Being polite here was like holding the door for a robber.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The blonde looked around the room, then back to Emmet. “No duh,” she rolled her eyes, but Emmet could tell she only pretended, she really did sleep through the bell.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>An awkward moment of silence followed, before Emmet finally gathered himself and tried to get away from the scary girl before she broke his wrist. But putting his bag over his shoulder he suddenly heard her speak to him again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What was your name again? Emmanuel?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He hesitated. “It’s Emmet,” he said carefully. The blonde frowned in thought, then stood up and stretched her arms above her head. Emmet wasn’t sure what to do, until she looked to him again, rubbing at one eye.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m Deedee. But everyone just calls me Dawkins.” She picked up her own bag, not breaking eye contact. “What did you do to deserve bein’ thrown in here?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Emmet shifted his eyes away. “It’s kind of... complicated…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Good,” she shoved him towards the door, “I like a good story.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It was a scene taken out of an angsty teenage movie. Emmet sat at the cafeteria table and listened carefully as Dee explained to him how Bullworth worked. She told him about the different cliques, the nerds, the preps, the greasers, the jocks, and how nearly anything he did or didn’t do was bound to piss off someone.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“If you ask me, best is to either intimidate them with some crazy violent show or lay low and be as boring as possible,” she mumbled, poking around her meal. She hadn’t taken a single bite, and Emmet somehow knew to do the same. “But that’s gonna be hard for you, longlegs. You look like a blind toilet spider. And I doubt you could beat up a first grader.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, I know…” Emmet sighed, fiddling with his bag strap. “You think I could get a bigger kid to protect me? Maybe do someone’s homework?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Nah,” Dee shook her head, “they won’t do it if you paid them a hundred bucks a day. Others like you tried.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Really?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, and they got beat up </span>
  <em>
    <span>and</span>
  </em>
  <span> mugged.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ah…” Emmet closed his eyes with another painful sigh. “They hate weirdos that much, huh.” Dee chuckled.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, it ain’t about that,” she looked to Emmet with a bitter smile. “It ain’t about hate, it’s about fear. What do you think would happen to a meat head that stood up against the other bullies?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Emmet didn’t guess, and Dee didn’t say the answer. There was no need. They both sat quietly in the loud, awfully smelling cafeteria, until Emmet lifted his head once more to look to Dee.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What about you?” he asked. She frowned.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What about me?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well it seems you’re quite feared-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Gosh you even talk like a nerd.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“-but you aren’t really… scary looking.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dee took a moment to think, then lifted her fork to point to the entirety of the room.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Look around you,” she said cryptically. “Notice anything weird about this stupid school?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Too many things to count,” Emmet chuckled bitterly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, one of them is that for every girl in the school there’s like five boys.” Emmet straightened his back in realization. “Yeah. And most girls are already taken.” She turned to Emmet with clear disgust in her eyes. “So there’s a couple dozen greasy fuckers ogling me at any time. Lucky for me, being publicly rejected is preeetty embarrassing, so they don’t try shit. Most of the time, anyway...”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Emmet found himself wishing he was born a girl for the first time in his life. But Dee’s stern stare shook him out of his thoughts.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well?” Deedee raised one eyebrow. Emmet blinked unsurelly. “I think I helped you way more than you’re even worth by now. You gonna tell me why a scrawny cranefly like you ended up here or should I stomp it outta you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Emmet squeezed his hands to his stomach nervously. “Ah, y-yeah… I’ll tell you, just, m-maybe not here?” he said so pleadingly it was nearly a whimper. Dee rolled her eyes overtly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ugh, fine. It better be good.” She got up, not caring to put her tray away. “Come on, the parking lot is usually safe. Some crackhead homeless guy lives right next to it so nobody wants to be there too long.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Emmet followed Dawkins with another sad sigh.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Ah great,” Dee grumbled, peeking behind the corner of the parking lot gate. Emmet stood behind her in a crouch, not daring to take a look himself. “This idiot is the last thing I wanted to see today.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What is it?” Emmet whispered. Dee walked forth into the lot without an answer, leaving Emmet to just watch her go, not sure what to do. Gathering up the little courage this place left him he peeked over the corner to see what she was up to.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>With her hands in her pockets, Deedee approached a rather scary looking group of kids in leather jackets, standing around the garage in overtly tough stances like a bunch of actors from an 80’s flick. The moment they noticed Dawkins approaching, they all tried even harder to look cool - it would almost be funny to Emmet if he didn’t know all too well that they’d love to beat him up given the slightest chance.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The most extra looking of the group, with an entire hogs-worth of grease in his hair and a toothpick between his lips, came towards Dee with a big confident grin, pulling a switch comb out of his pocket just to run it through his tall pompadour theatrically.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well well, look who’s decided to give her man a visit!” The rest of the greasers oohed and posed behind him encouragingly. “The grinchiest damn gal this side-a Bullworth.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dawkins did not flinch, looking as unamused as ever. “Hey Tom. I’d say I’m happy to see you, but I ain’t.” Tom ignored Dee’s disdain, instead giving her two snapping finger guns and a wide confident grin. “I thought you greaseballs fuck around the autoshop exclusively. Why the sudden change of scenery?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well,” Tom came closer, putting one foot up on a shiny studded bike that Emmet just now noticed. He’d notice it sooner if he wasn’t enthralled by the show the greaser group was putting on, one repeatedly snapping his fingers, another sucking on an unlit cigarette, one even poking holes into his own jacket with a knife.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I just thought to give my new ride a… ride. Yeah.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Wow, such a way with words,” Dee snickered.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tom winked with a loud click of his tongue. “You know it baby.” He ran his comb through his hair again before stashing it in the inner pocket of his jacket. “So, whaddya say, wanna go for a ride girl?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dee cocked her head with disgust. “Ugh, as if. I ain’t here to be seen with Mr. Oil Slick and his leather clad sweat-band.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tom did not respond at first, although his grin didn’t leave his face either. He took the toothpick between his fingers and pointed to her, undoubtedly with another sleazy line prepared, but at that moment his eyes caught a glimpse of Emmet peeking around the corner.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Emmet’s forehead speckled with sweat and his legs became heavy as Tom’s smile slipped off his face. He walked past Dawkins, approaching Emmet, who didn’t know whether to apologize, get down on his knees or run like hell. Running would make him look more like prey, right? Or was that bears?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well then, dolly,” Tom snarled, “you haven’t introduced me to your </span>
  <em>
    <span>new friend</span>
  </em>
  <span> yet.” Emmet gulped as Tom snapped the toothpick between his fingers dramatically.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But Dee didn’t even bat an eye, turning around to look at Tom with more sass that Emmet knew was possible. “What the fuck are you blabbering about?” When her eyes landed on Emmet she made a disgusted grimace, folding her arms at Tom, “you think I would be friends with that glass-ashtrays-on-his-nose pencil neck?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tom gave Emmet another most dangerous look, flicking the snapped toothpick away dramatically before turning back to Dawkins.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Heh, yeah, that’d be stupid,” he chuckled, coming back to her. “A queen like you-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Chrome,” Dee suddenly interrupted him, looking down at the speckless bike. Tom blinked in confusion.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What?” She turned to him with a nonchalant wave of a hand.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Your new bike ain’t even got chrome. I thought </span>
  <em>
    <span>you</span>
  </em>
  <span> of all people would know to chrome it up before prancing it around like it’s the shit. Well it </span>
  <em>
    <span>ain’t</span>
  </em>
  <span> the shit. It’s just shit.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tom was finally torn out of his look of boundless confidence, looking over his new bike, nearly devastated. His crew kept silent too, until Tom turned to them with an angry grimace, at which they all avoided eye contact.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Like a 3/10, on a good day,” Dee continued as Tom grabbed his bike and shoved it towards his crew, who began packing to go back to the auto shop. Tom turned to Dawkins with a new confident grin, backing up with both finger guns a-blazin’ to hide his shame.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I knew I could count on you to… give ya man some constructive criticism! Thanks babe,” he clicked his tongue with a wink again before finally leaving with his crew to spend more hours tuning out his ride.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ugh,” Dee shook her head, waiting for Tom and his crew to disappear behind the auto shop gate before finally turning back to Emmet with an impatient tap of her foot.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Emmet carefully rounded the corner, still unsure if he’s safe or not. Dee raised one eyebrow, cokcing her head annoyedly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You gonna come here or do you need a written fuckin’ invitation? Jeez.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Emmet made a pathetic little jog to not keep her waiting, earning another roll of the eyes before Dee sat down on the curb. “Ugh, I hate the smell of pomade…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Emmet put his bag on the ground before sitting down on it next to her, folding his hands in his lap nervously. His long legs made his knees point high into the sky.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Uh… thanks,” he said quietly. Dee gave him a confused frown.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What for?” she asked annoyedly. Emmet tapped his fingers together nervously.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well uh, you know, for saying all that about me so he wouldn’t beat me up.” Dee gave a rather wicked laugh.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You think I did that because of you?” she shook her head, “you really are as dumb as you look…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Emmet shifted his eyes away unsurely. Well, no matter her intentions, at least he didn’t get his ass handed to him by a jealous thinks-he’s-a-boyfriend.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dee put her bag on her lap and fished out a metal can of iced coffee, opening it up and swiftly taking a big gulp. With a satisfied sigh she put it down next to her, wiping her lips.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s the stuff…” She turned to him, her usual scowl back in place. “So? This story better be worth the trouble.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Emmet straightened his back, sorting his thoughts. He knew there was no way he could not tell her after all this, if he wanted to keep his slim fingers intact.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, as I said, it’s a bit complicated.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What ain’t,” Dee took another swig of her coffee.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I had to move schools because… my parents are getting a divorce.” The words weighed heavily on his chest.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dee squinted at him with an overt frown.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“...what?” she scoffed, “that’s it?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Emmet gulped. “Well-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re telling me your parents made you go </span>
  <em>
    <span>here,</span>
  </em>
  <span> to motherfucking </span>
  <em>
    <span>Bullworth</span>
  </em>
  <span>, just cuz they’re getting a stupid divorce? The same shit like half of all couples do? No way.” She kicked him in the ankle. “You better go on or you can say goodbye to your nards, pencil neck.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Emmet sighed shakily, out of both fear and embarrassment. “No, it’s…” He looked around before leaning closer to Dee to whisper.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“My dad…” He couldn’t help but sigh again before continuing. “He… he slept with my art teacher…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dee’s face showed joy for the first time since Emmet had met her. Her face twisted into a big amused grimace and she laughed out loud, embarrassing Emmet even further.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Now that’s more like it!” she hollered, “that makes waaay more sense! Hah!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, they… they told me they need some time to sort this all out. And I couldn’t stay at that school, so they sent me here. Apparently Bullworth has good ratings among the adults.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh yeah,” Dee snickered, “it seems all fine and dandy from just the grades and statistics. Nobody tells the parents what a shithole this really is.” She took another swig from her coffee. “Heheheh… what a </span>
  <em>
    <span>real fucking</span>
  </em>
  <span> father thing to do. Fucking up everyone’s life just to get some.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, I thought it was just a one off thing but… I should’ve told mom right away.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dee nearly spit out her drink. “Waait, wait wait, you knew before she did?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Emmet sighed heavily. “Yeah… I walked in on them.” He tried to ignore Dawkins’s loud laughter. “My dad assured me it was a one time mistake. Said not to ruin a perfectly good marriage. But then I found out it </span>
  <em>
    <span>wasn’t</span>
  </em>
  <span>. A classmate of mine had the same story from a couple of months before. Didn’t believe him at first, but I did my research and… yeah. I couldn’t stay silent after that.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dee finished laughing with a long drawn out sigh of amusement, then took another swig before turning to Emmet again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That sucks man! That really sucks,” she snickered. “All fathers are bastards, ain’t they?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Emmet stayed silent. After a moment, his eyes zipped back to Dee, and after a bit of weighing what he was about to say, he spoke again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Are you… speaking from experience?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dee’s smile slipped off her face immediately. She gave him an intense burning stare, before crumpling the empty can in her fist and throwing it aside forcefully. Emmet crouched fearfully, whimpering when she grabbed him by the collar and tore his upper button off with a sharp pull.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ll do you a favor and pretend you didn’t just ask me that,” she snarled into his face before shoving him back again. Emmet nodded fearfully, picking up his torn button, while Dee stood up and shook her head.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Idiot…” she muttered, before looking down at him again. “Remember when I said you better stay the fuck quiet? Yeah. You’re lucky I’m the person you met first. Ask anyone here shit like that and you’ll get your teeth kicked in, got it?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes, I understand, I’m sorry…” Emmet nodded.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Good. I gotta scram. You better get to your dorm and lock your door before the detention dullards get there.” She began walking off. “You don’t wanna find out what’ll happen if they get to your room first...”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>With that, she was gone. Emmet stayed behind, clutching the button in his fist, many miserable thoughts running through his mind. Well, better to do what Dawkins said. He had quite enough of Bullworth for one day. And he really did </span>
  <em>
    <span>not</span>
  </em>
  <span> want to find out what his new school mates would fill his shoes with, given the chance…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was time to go home. And hopefully get ready for what the next day at Bullworth would throw his way.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Lab Partners</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>“There, damn,” Dawkins dropped her pen on the smooth surface of the gray table with a loud sigh, just done copying Emmet’s chemistry worksheet. “Dr Watts and this entire subject can suck my ass. If I wanted to inhale foul odors I’d visit the boys dorm, ugh.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Buried to his nose in a chemistry book, Emmet hummed in acknowledgement, not paying Dee much attention. Chemistry lessons were his one comfort in this school, despite the extremely poor state of the lab classroom and the fact that their teacher was about a hundred years old paranoid schizophrenic with a turpentine addiction. At least he let Emmet work on his own projects well after the lessons ended, even without supervision. He enjoyed those lonesome afternoons, just him and his good friend chemistry. Today he was looking forward to finding out the acidity levels of the different brands of soft drinks they had in the school vending machine.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I presume you’re staying late again,” Dawkins leered at him. She didn’t even wait for him to answer before rolling her eyes. “You’re like, even nerdier than the actual nerds. And you don’t even play those stupid games with them.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I don’t enjoy the way they roleplay,” Emmet said, lowering the book into his lap. “I overhear them all the time when I’m in the library. They spend most of the game just drooling over fictional girls in unpractically skimpy clothes…” Dee wrinkled her nose with clear disgust to which Emmet agreed with a nod, lowering his book. “I actually played my fair share of Grottos and Gremlins at my old school. My character was this alchemist with a purple cloak and we-”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Ooh, fascinating!” Dawkins waved her hands in the air sarcastically. “Please DO tell me all about it, doctor foureyes.” Emmet gave her an annoyed side eye.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No need to be so reserved with me, Dawkins,” he told her with a good amount of sass himself. “Just tell me if anything’s not to your liking.” Dee gave him a snarky smirking grimace, pulling her bag up on the table.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Well, right now I don’t care much for any more fume inhaling,” she said, packing her things up. “The moment Watts walks in I’m handing him my work and getting the F out of H.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Emmet snickered. “You won’t get any F’s copying my worksheets, I can promise you that.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Calm down, Einstein,” Dawkins grumbled his way, but Emmet still felt nice to be able to offer Dee the help. She was sassy and liked to berate and boss him around, but at least she stuck around even when she didn’t have to. It made him feel a bit less vulnerable in this social shark pit.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The classroom door opened, Dee lifting her head and grabbing her finished worksheet. Dr Watts coughed loudly into the sleeve of his lab coat as he came in, then looked around the half empty classroom with a frowny squint. Deedee was about to announce she’s done with her work, waving the rustling papers, but the teacher turned around before she could speak.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Alright, truant, take a free table,” he barked to the doorway behind him, “you’ve got a lot to catch up with...” With that he walked over to his teacher’s desk, revealing the student standing behind him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Shooting daggers at the teacher, Tom snarled something through the toothpick in his mouth, both hands in his pockets. He was clearly freshly caught playing hooky, his hair and clothes a bit roughed up from the chase, the prefect’s hand still tightly clamped on his shoulder. The large man growled something threatening to him before shoving him through the door and shutting it behind him. Tom angrily fixed the collar of his leather jacket and as he began looking around the class pulled out his switch-comb and ran it through his hair as if it was more a reflex than a conscious decision.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>That’s when his eyes landed on Dee, who’d been staring at him in bitter surprise this whole time, wearing a grimace of disgust and annoyance that only Tom could give her. He froze up for a second, then resumed grooming himself, except with a big cocky smile. He nonchalantly put the switch-comb back into his inner pocket, smoothly pushing it down with one finger, before strutting his way towards her.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Emmet took a step back as Tom leaned his elbow on the desk in front of Dee with a most suave look, raising one eyebrow.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Well well, had I known-”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Nah,” Dee shut him down before he even started, getting up from her table and quickly walking around him, dropping her papers on the finished pile on the teacher’s table on her way out.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Tom continued to stare in silence after where she had shut the door behind her, seemingly flabbergasted. After a few moments he turned back towards the desk he was leaning on, and his eyes met with Emmet, sitting at his table in a slight crouch. Tom frowned, slapping his palm down onto the papers Dee was copying.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“And what are </span>
  <em>
    <span>you</span>
  </em>
  <span> staring at, pencil neck?” he growled through gritted teeth. Emmet quickly looked down.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“N-nothing, I’m just-” He winced when Tom swiped the chemistry notes off the edge of the table, making them fly dramatically right into Emmet’s face.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah, I thought so,” he snarled, walking away.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Emmet quickly collected the scattered papers, anxious not to get them stained on any random chemical spill that often adorned the linoleum floor. While tapping them against the desk to line them up, he dared to sneak a peek at the greaser picking out a table on the other side of the classroom. Tom sat down with copious amounts of attitude, elbow leaning over the backrest, putting his feet up on the table.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Well this was a bummer. Now his little chemical haven had a big greasy stain on it, like already cheap wine made even worse by being tainted with 2,4,6-trichloroanisole. He didn’t even know Tom went to the same class as him, the guy had more missed lessons this year than Emmet had his entire life. He looked wistfully to the door, where Dawkins had escaped. He felt a bit bitter that she left him behind to face the oily bruiser on his own, but also understood her completely - his constant flirting was so sleazy and lecherous it was hard to even watch, Emmet couldn’t even imagine how icky it must’ve felt being the target of it.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He looked back down to his work, then under the table into his bag. He was excited to open up all those cans of soda today, he spent a good few dollars to get them all. But committing to a whole new project with Tom in the room seemed like it would hardly be worth it.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>As he contemplated his options, Dr Watts slammed the stack of worksheets on Tom’s table with a wicked grin.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Here, that’s all the work you missed,” he said with </span>
  <span>malevolent </span>
  <span>glee. “I’d get started right away if I were you, heh.” Tom continued to lean back in his chair, giving the teacher a nonchalant shrug.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Don’t really see why start at all, school’s out in like half an hour.”</span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>“Oh is it?” Dr Watts put his arms behind his back, smiling smugly. “Well, you know what they say, the bell doesn’t dismiss you…” He patted his finger on the worksheets with emphasizing deliberacy. “Finishing your work does.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Tom kept silent, looking over the stack of work without his usual confidence. The bitter realization visible on his face gave the teacher a wide grin from liver spot to liver spot.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You mean… </span>
  <em>
    <span>all</span>
  </em>
  <span> of it?” he asked, putting his feet down to lean forth, then gave a weak chuckle. “That’ll take like ages.” The teacher simply nodded. Tom’s face shifted back to uncomfortable realization, before trying to play it off again, leaning back nonchalantly. “And, like, you’ll have to sit here and watch me, yanno, make sure I don’t accidentally burn your lab to the ground?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Dr Watts shifted his eyes in thought, then turned his head towards the remaining few students. Much to Emmet’s horror their eyes met and before Emmet could even open his mouth he was being pointed at.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You!” he said sharply. “Come over here.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Emmet’s legs felt heavier than lead, maybe even polonium. With a sigh he got up and walked slowly towards Tom’s table, fretting what’s to come. As he approached he tried to avoid eye contact with the greaser, but he could feel his angry stare without even looking.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Dr Watts patted Emmet on the back as he looked back to Tom. “Here, uh…” He paused for a while, frowning in thought.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Elliot, sir,” Emmet reminded the teacher. It wasn’t the first time he forgot his name.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yes, Elliot here will look after you. He’s an excellent student, with a bright future ahead of him, unlike you.” Tom ground his teeth together at the remark and Emmet felt himself die inside. The teacher slapped his back again, completely oblivious. “So, take as long as you need, yes?” With a self satisfied chuckle the teacher walked away, back to his table to grade the other students’ papers.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The two boys stayed there, both silent, both dismal. Tom once again looked over the stack of work he had no way of avoiding, then his eyes turned angry at Emmet, as if he was to blame. Emmet shrugged with unease, rubbing at his arm.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Ok I’ll, uh, I’ll just-”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Shut it, bright future,” Tom snarled, “sit your ass down, and I don’t wanna hear a fucking thing from you, capishe?” With that he grabbed the first folder in the stack and began to read the lab instruction.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Emmet stood there, resigned to his fate. With a quiet sigh he took a seat opposite Tom, folding his hands in his lap. This was going to be a long day…</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>At least he finally found out what he valued more - his sanity or his teeth. What Tom was doing to those poor defenceless chemicals was a travesty, but no matter how hard it got to watch, Emmet didn’t dare to say a word. It drove him mad to see Tom taint his results with unwashed equipment, mess up measurements and spill more than a drunk with Parkinson’s, but he knew even a well meant piece of advice had a high chance of earning him a beatdown. The clock ticked away, and Tom swore this way and that, messing up constantly. It was well after even the latest detentions by now, when Dr Watts picked up the stack of graded papers and put them under his arm. He walked over to Tom with long slow steps, looking unbearably smug.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Fascinating, isn’t it?” he asked sarcastically. Tom just exhaled through his nose sharply with anger. “Well then, I’m off for now, you may find me in my cabinet for the next hour or so. I better have all your worksheets on my desk by tomorrow morning. Otherwise, well, you’ll have to do it all over again… next year. Have fun!” With that and a shit-eating grin he left to the next room over, leaving Emmet and Tom completely alone.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Tom looked over the table, covered in spills and stains among the messy beakers and discoloured papers. His jacket and hair were messy and his look filled with frustration and dismay. He put both hands to his head, groaning loudly.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Ughhh, why do I have to do this shit? When am I ever gonna need it!?” He grabbed one of the papers and read through what he had written, his other hand running through his hair. He then looked down to the beaker he was currently working on, gesticulating wildly. “Why doesn’t this shit do the thing it’s supposed to?!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Emmet looked over the set sadly. Well, at least Tom had finally put the correct type of wire in, he could hardly make copper sulfate without a copper wire. It really was painful to watch… but not just because Emmet hated to watch chemistry be done badly. Truth be told, he felt pretty bad for Tom. He wasn’t surprised at all that he was doing this awful. Had Emmet not been already super into chemistry he wouldn’t know squat from the way this school taught it. The books were old and badly written, Dr Watts was as bad at teaching as he was at being a decent person, most of the equipment was mislabeled or missing… And yeah, Tom probably didn’t help it with his truancy, but Emmet kind of doubted going to these classes would’ve helped him much.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Hands under his chin, he looked up to Tom, then back down to the copper sulfate he was trying to fabricate. Maybe just a little nudge wouldn’t hurt.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hey…” he said gently. Tom shot him a scary look, but Emmet powered through it, pointing to the beaker. “Your sulfuric acid is too concentrated. You need to dilute it with water.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Tom stared him down, clearly very angry.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Um, did I fucking ask?” he shook his head. Emmet sighed.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You’ve been here for almost four hours now. And I’m sorry, but you really aren’t any closer to finishing. I thought-”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yea I’m sure you did, brainiac, that’s all you ever do,” Tom folded his arms, leaning back in his chair. “You think you’re soooo much better than me, you think just because you remember a bunch of worthless shit you can boss me around - well I ain’t gonna take advice from you, you bright future jerk!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Emmet frowned and folded his arms as well. “Well maybe if you did you would pass this stupid class...”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Tom stared Emmet down with a look of searing hate. He gritted his teeth as he shook his head. “You must love this, huh. Just sitting there and watching me bust my ass on this stupid idiot exam.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>This time Emmet forgot all about keeping his head down and not saying the wrong things to the wrong people. He stood up in his chair and spread his arms in anger.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Really?! You really think I like sitting here all day supervising you?!” he said in a rather high voice. “Believe it or not I have better things to do! So why don’t you make it easy on us both and take some well meant goddamn advice?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Tom was a bit taken aback at first, not expecting the shaky cranefly to speak up to him like this. But when his initial shock was gone he stood up sharply, slamming both hands on the stained table.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh yeah?! W-well-! Well you- You look fucking stupid in those glasses!” he sputtered. Emmet pursed his lips, putting his hands at his sides in frustration. “And I don’t need your fucking advice! I’m tougher than you’ll ever be! I’ll figure your shit out - while you’ll never even know how to drift a bike, ha!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>With that he grabbed the beaker of acid and stared into it with intense, but still clueless determination. Then he looked to Emmet with a huge cocksure grin.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah, obviously you gotta delude this shit!” he snarked confidently. He grabbed a second beaker in his other hand. Emmet’s anger melted away when he lifted the water above the acid. “This shit’s easy!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No wait that’s-!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It was too late. Tom poured a generous splash of water right down into the acid which instantly bubbled up, but luckily just as it was beginning to sputter Emmet grabbed it out of Tom’s hand and threw it aside.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The beaker smashed on the floor, breaking into a million pieces, and the boiling acid splashed around, sizzling violently. Both Tom and Emmet stared at it, frozen in shock. Then, Tom slowly turned his wide eyes to Emmet, but seemed to be unable to say anything. Emmet exhaled deeply, rubbing a hand over his face.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Fuck... that was close…”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Suddenly the cabinet door flew open violently and Dr Watts ran inside, eyes wide with anger.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What the hell is going on here?! Are you breaking school property?!” he yelled, quickly running towards the two students. His eyes landed on the large acid spill on the ground a few feet away from the boys, then his furious look locked onto Tom. Tom’s teeth gritted in fear as the teacher grabbed onto the collar of his leather jacket and shook him madly.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Is this some kind of sick joke to you?! I gave you your last chance - but I should’ve failed you on the spot! You good for nothing lowlives aren’t worth the dirt you walk on you-”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Sir wait!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Dr Watts stopped in surprise when Emmet grabbed onto his sleeve and tugged his attention to himself. The boy held his hands together nervously, still unsure what he was about to say. But one look to the terrified Tom convinced him this was the right thing to do.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It was me sir,” he sighed. “I thought… it would be funny to prank Tom, so I switched his beakers. I wanted to mess with him. I didn’t…” He cringed, feeling horrible to lie about his knowledge of his favourite subject. “I didn’t know pouring water into acid could be this dangerous. I’m sorry.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Silence fell. Emmet hung his head down, Tom was completely speechless, Dr Watts let go of the collar and shook his head at Emmet with disappointment.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I thought better of you, Elliot,” he folded his arms. “I thought you were a true chemist, that you took this precious science seriously. A prank like that isn’t even worthy of a firework-making simpleton.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Emmet sighed. “I know sir, I won’t do it again.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yes, you won’t, because I’m taking away your lab privileges!” Emmet lifted his head in shock. “At least until you’ve proven to be above idiotic games like that.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Emmet’s throat closed up. He didn’t expect to be punished quite this hard. His eyes zipped to Tom, who stared at him with wide, bewildered eyes. For a moment he considered telling the real truth… but then just sighed.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yes, sir…”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Dr Watts whipped his head up with a disgusted “hmph!”, then turned back to Tom, who was still completely flabbergasted by what was going on.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“As for you…” the teacher sighed. “Since I’m not sure how much your work has been sabotaged, I’ll let you redo your exams next week. Again, all of them, and you better do them right! Now clean this mess up and then get the hell out, both of you, dismissed!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>With that he marched off, back into his cabinet, leaving the two boys alone once more.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>For a while, neither said anything. Emmet was still kind of regretting doing this - this lab was his one place of solace and he threw it out the window, and for what? Some greasy leather-clad bully. He lifted his head to look at Tom, who still stared at him with his mouth open, completely bamboozled. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Why’d-” he raised a hand slowly, his voice very high, “why’d you do that?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Emmet looked at him bitterly, then shrugged. “I don’t know… I knew he would fail you but not me. I didn’t know he’d take my lab away…”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“But-” Tom came closer, both hands lifted towards Emmet questioningly, “you had no reason to stick your neck out for me. You’re not part of my crew, you’re not even a greaser...” His eyes lit up a bit, locking with Emmet’s. “Ooh, oh I get it.” He smiled, putting his hands on Emmet’s shoulders. “Well don’t you worry foureyes, you’re one now! From now on we’re brothers, I’ll teach you everything you need to know, get your hair nice n’ slick - finding a jacket that’ll fit you won’t be easy but what wouldn’t I do for my fellow-”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Dude wait, no,” Emmet shook his head, raising his hands defensively, “I didn’t do it to join your band - I hate the fifties, believe it or not.” Tom seemed genuinely hurt by that notion. “I just felt bad for you. I saw an opportunity to help, so I took it. That’s it.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Tom kept silent for a good long while, the gears in his head visibly turning. Then, he looked Emmet in the eyes once more, his hands still on his shoulders.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“So… you took a bullet for me. And you didn’t even expect a reward? Not even a lil’ bit of green?” He paused for another moment, then chuckled. “Wow. Now </span>
  <em>
    <span>that</span>
  </em>
  <span> razzes my goddamn berries. I never thought a nerd would stick up for me. Usually they just talk shit about me - cuz they’re jealous.” Emmet rolled his eyes but Tom ignored it. “Alright then. Even if yer not one of us, from today on, you’re an ally,” Tom poked a finger into Emmet’s chest. “You need a ride to yer pad - my bike is your bike. You need a chick - my boys will find you the most stacked girl you can imagine. You need someone beat the fuck up - we’ll pound him into the fuckin ground.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Well thanks, I-” Emmet froze up when Tom pushed him closer and landed a kiss on both his cheeks. Emmet was still a bit shaken as Tom backed off, his self-confident smile back in place, coming over to the window and pushing the pane up to lean out.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hey guys!” he called, and Emmet could hear multiple voices answer nearly instantly. “All of you, get up here, pronto!” He closed the window again, and sitting down in a chair swung out a zippo and a silver cigarette case. Lighting it smoothly, he took a long drag before exhaling a big puff of smoke, then offering it to Emmet.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Ah, uh,” Emmet smiled shakily, “no thanks.” Tom shrugged.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Suit yaself, amigo,” he put the ciggy back between his lips, putting his things back in his pockets. It was then that the door opened, making Emmet face it cautiously.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Heyyy!” Tom spread his arms as his four leather-wearing cronies walked in. Emmet felt a bit frightened as they looked over the messy room, then at him, clearly not getting a pretty picture of the situation. The one in the front, dark blond hair in a wavy quiff, put his hands in the pocket of his brown trousers, looking down at Emmet with a tough intimidating squint.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hey boss. ‘S there any trouble?” he drew out. Another tough looking fella behind him cracked his knuckles through his leather gloves. “This spaz botherin’ ya?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Thankfully Tom got up to stand beside the terrified Emmet at that point, hooking his arm up over his shoulders, ignoring how difficult their height difference made the gesture.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Mellow out, Johnny,” he said smoothly. “This spaz just saved yours truly from failing chemistry again. Ol’ mister grody was on my ass again cuz of a little fuck up, but this square right here, he took a bullet for me.” The greasers looked Emmet up and down, clearly puzzled. “Yep!” Tom nodded with a big cool smile, “we tight now.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Emmet looked back at the bruisers, awkwardly hunched down under Tom’s arm. He gave a nervous smile, raising one hand in a meek gesture.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Suddenly, like if a switch was flicked, all four tough guys beamed happily, spreading their arms invitingly and cheering with drawn out agreements. To Emmet it was as if a pack of growling wolves all suddenly turned into happy retriever puppies in the blink of an eye. They circled around him and Tom, each giving a rough pat on the shoulder or hard-to-make-out words of praise. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“That’s boss, boss!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Eyy, welcome’s to ours’s family’s, amice’s!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Ya know what they say, my case es suitcase.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Emmet still felt a bit uneasy, but soon began to relax and even gave an awkward smile.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Name’s Johnny,” the large blond outreached a hand to Emmet invitingly, and he carefully shook it, not expecting to be pulled in for a chest bump. As soon as he was released, another hand was on his shoulder pulling him close, a buff black haired Asian pointing a thumb of his other hand to himself proudly.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“The name’s Quyen,” he said with a surprisingly strong Brooklyn accent. “But e’ryone calls me Johnny, a’ight.” Emmet blinked his eyes in concern but another hand was in his before he could say anything. A smaller hazelnut-brown hair boy with a big friendly grin, for some reason wearing two belts around his hips, grabbed his hand and squeezed it cordially before backing off again, tugging at the zippers of his jacket, his wrists limp and his pinkies up. His mouth was twisted into a very strange smile, lips a bit pursed, as if he was just done saying some devastating burn.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Nice to meet’s ya, my’s name’s is Johny, one N, we’s welcom’s ya in’s.” Emmet chuckled at the absurd attitudes, a bit unsure if maybe this is some sort of a weird prank. The last greaser approached him, a big guy with very wide shoulders that was even taller than Emmet. His smile was bright and genuine, if a bit simple.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Johnny, I presume?” Emmet said amusedly. The greaser froze up, then his face scrunched up with sadness, grabbing at the back of his head with both hands and looking up at the ceiling, turning towards his Asian fellow.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Maaan, why does everybody say that?” he whined in a deep voice with genuine sadness, then turned back to Emmet. “Nah man my name’s Tony. I’d appreciate ya rememberin’ that, yeah?” Emmet nodded apologetically.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Sorry, yeah, I will.” He looked to Tom unsurely, earning another pat on the back.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Well?” Tom encouraged him, “what can we call ya, ‘cept radioactive?” Emmet wasn’t sure what that meant but decided to assume it was a compliment.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“My name is Emmet,” he said, looking over the other boys. “It’s nice to meet you all.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“The pleasure is mine, Emmet,” Tom nodded as he took another drag, then passed it to his friend who took one as well. “Now, why dontcha relax and let my friends here handle the mess. You just lay back, or go chase your own day. And if there’s ever anythin’ you need, we got your back.” A few “yeah”s were added by the rest of the group.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Emmet felt bizarre. A bunch of folk that would’ve broken his knees had he given them a bad look before were now suddenly pledging their allegiance to him. He felt somehow both excited and terrified at the prospect - it was awesome to have allies, but he was still rather nervous of saying something that would turn them back against him. Dawkins’ words pushed their way to the forefront of his mind. The less he says the better.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Thanks, I’ll keep it in mind.” With that and a nervous little bow to them all, he walked off to get his things. He came to his table and grabbed his bag, then the tote under the table, when he froze.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Alright boys, let’s get this done asap so we can work on our bikes later, yeah?” Tom said, sitting back as his friends began to sweep the mess up, but suddenly noticed Emmet coming back to them. He lifted the tote up on a nearby desk, opening it up.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hey uh, you guys want some soda? I bought a few cans for my extra credits assignment but since I lost my lab privileges-”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh damn’s you’s’s for real?” Johny stepped closer excitedly and grabbed himself one.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hell yeah!” Johnny joined in, and so did the rest. Emmet smiled as they each opened one and drank with gusto. He took the last remaining one and walked over to Tom, handing it to him with a smile. Tom repaid the smile, cracking the can open with just one hand smoothly without even looking, then nodding at Emmet approvingly.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“See you around, brighty.” Emmet nodded back.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m sure I will.”</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
</body>
</html>